“Good morning.” I greeted my grumpy-looking cousins much louder than necessary. The way they glared from the center of the room told me they didn’t think I was remotely funny. “How is everyone feeling this bright and sunny spring day?”
“Do you want me to come over there and shove something in your mouth?” Thistle challenged. Despite her pink hair, there was nothing genial and frothy about her attitude. “I will. I don’t feel well, but I’ll totally take the time to wrestle you down and gag you.”
“Oh, like you have the strength for that.” I flicked her ear as I moved past and flopped on the couch. “So, did both of you get drunk and stay at The Overlook last night, or was that just Clove?”
“It was both of us,” Thistle grumbled. “Don’t bother making fun of me. I realized my mistake the moment I woke up and found Mom standing at the foot of our bed. She had a tray full of coffee — which I should’ve liked — but she also had a newspaper article explaining how dyeing your hair can shrivel up your eggs. Apparently, she has grandchildren on the brain.”
I snickered. “Nice.”
“Yes, well ... .” Thistle shook her head, her gaze murky as she tried to clear the haze from her brain. “Where were you last night, by the way? Why didn’t you get drunk and spend the night?”
“Because I’m smarter than you.”
“Why really?”
I tugged on my limited patience and barely managed to refrain from snapping at her. “Because I had other things to do ... like sneak out to the scene of the crash and take a look around. The Feds had people out there searching the site again, by the way. They were out there the entire night as far as I can tell.”
Thistle’s eyes widened. “You went out to the site alone? Are you stupid?”
That was not the reaction I was looking for. “I think you meant to ask if I was brave and awesome.”
“No, I meant stupid. Only an idiot would’ve hiked out there alone in the middle of the night.”
“She’s right,” Clove said, her expression grave. “You could’ve been eaten by bears ... or fallen and twisted your ankle with no way to contact us ... or kidnapped by Bigfoot.”
The disgusted sound mounting in the back of my throat wasn’t voluntary. “I wasn’t afraid of Bigfoot.”
Thistle stared me down. “Oh, please. You might not have been afraid of Bigfoot, but you saw the same video I did about the mountain lion. Sure, it’s probably a hoax, but there’s no way you could have simply pushed it out of your head.”
Crap. I hate that she knows me so well. “I was not afraid of the mountain lion.”
“Lies.”
“I wasn’t.”
“More lies.”
I shook my head and calmed myself. “If you don’t stop saying that, I’ll drag you outside and fill your mouth with dirt. How would you like that?”
“It’s better than trying to choke down a pack of lies.”
“Ugh.” I slapped my hand to my forehead and stared at the ceiling. “Why must you always be such a pain?”
“It’s genetic.” Thistle was unnaturally calm and serious as she regarded me. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught, Bay. What did Landon say when he realized you’d slipped out and managed to get back without being arrested?”
I shifted on my seat, uncomfortable. “Oh, well, that’s the thing.” I chewed my bottom lip as I debated how much I should tell them. Ultimately, keeping secrets felt alien (pun intended), so I merely shrugged and barreled forward. “He knew I was going to sneak out, pretended to be asleep and then followed me.”
“What?”
I launched into my tale, making sure to keep it short. When I was done, Clove and Thistle were both flabbergasted ... although for entirely different reasons.
“You’re lucky he didn’t arrest you,” Clove said solemnly. “You’re also lucky he was there to protect you from Bigfoot.”
“I can’t believe he doesn’t like REO Speedwagon,” Thistle complained. “While they’re not exactly masterful recording artists, their songs are extremely catchy and great for PMS days. He should be ashamed of his reaction.”
I couldn’t hide my smirk. “I was thinking the exact same thing. He refuses to back down on REO Speedwagon, though.”
“Well, that should make fighting the feeling much easier,” Thistle drawled. “Seriously. I kind of want to punch him for making fun of REO Speedwagon. Did you punch him?”
“I fell asleep on his lap.”
Thistle’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Good grief. Only you would fall asleep while spying on the government. What is wrong with you? You’re like the worst Mulder ever.”
Clove furrowed her brow. “What’s a Mulder?”
“Fox Mulder,” Thistle automatically answered. “From The X-Files.”
“Oh, right.” Clove made a face. “You know I don’t like science fiction television shows. I’m much more into home renovation shows. I prefer learning something from television.”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “You like watching those Real Housewives of Whatever Bar is Open Tonight and you know it. You don’t watch home renovation shows.”
Clove folded her arms over her chest. “I could watch those shows.”
“But you don’t.” I shifted my eyes to Thistle. “Landon swears up and down that nothing else happened after I fell asleep. He says the Feds simply walked back and forth across the field.”
“They’re looking for something.” All traces of a hangover were devoid from Thistle’s face as she rubbed the back of her neck. “That drone must have had something important on it.”
“Ah. So now you admit it’s a drone.” I felt vindicated.
“I guess it could be a plane, but I think we would’ve heard about a missing plane at this point,” Thistle countered. “And the third alternative —the one in which aliens are running around the countryside — will give me nightmares. I mean ... what if you’d run into an alien in the woods last night?”
“I would’ve hoped for E.T.”
“I know you’re joking to cover for the fact that you’re relieved Landon didn’t melt down and have some righteous hissy fit about what you were doing, but is anyone else worried that he doesn’t know what’s going on? He’s not really lying to you. That Gibson guy is lying to him.”
I hadn’t really looked at it from that perspective before. “You’re right. He was fascinated to watch them search last night. I think he was happy to let me sneak out because it gave him an excuse to follow.”
“And you said you’re not fighting,” Clove pointed out. “That’s a bonus.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t be happy if we were fighting.” I scratched the side of my nose, debating. “I don’t know where to look next. I can go back to the scene, cut across Hollow Creek, but I’m not sure there’s anything left to see out there if I can’t get closer.”
“Well, lucky for you I have an idea on that front,” Thistle said, leaning forward so she could snag the laptop sitting on the coffee table. “My father happened to email this morning. He’s fishing for a visit. What’s interesting about his message is that he mentioned a group of people checking into the Dragonfly last night.”
The Dragonfly was the competing inn my father and uncles had opened. Initially, I worried their return to Hemlock Cove would cause problems, but it hadn’t been nearly as bad as I envisioned. “Okay, I’ll bite,” I said after a beat. “Who is staying at the Dragonfly?”
“A group of bloggers.”
“I don’t know why that should excite me.”
“They’re alien bloggers,” Clove supplied. “We were looking them up right before you arrived.”
“Here is their site.” Thistle turned her laptop so I could see the screen.
“Aliens are among us.” I read aloud as I studied the web page. “You’re basically saying these guys believe all the alien abduction nonsense. How is this helpful?”
“They’re staying at the Dragonfly ... and they’re a lot more knowledgeable than us.”
“They probably have hats made out of tinfoil,” I argued. “They’re not going to be able to help.”
“Do you have another place to look?”
Ugh. I hated it when she had a point. “Fine.” I blew out a sigh. “But if they’re weird, I’m blaming you.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
CLOVE AND THISTLE closed Hypnotic so they could ride out to the Dragonfly with me. It was a slow day and their hangovers required nursing, which would happen when our fathers opted to spoil them with food and drink. Plus, they didn’t want to be left out of the fun. Even though they thought I was an idiot for taking off into the woods on my own the night before, I could tell they were both disappointed to have missed out on the adventure. I would tell the story for years to come, and they would always be the losers who got so drunk they had to stay at the inn and only make cameos at the start of the tale.
My father was in the lobby when we entered. He stood behind the main desk and widened his eyes when he saw us. “You guys aren’t running from the law, are you?”
“Ha, ha.” I gave him a hug. Our relationship wasn’t exactly easy — I was frustrated that he moved away when I was a kid and I couldn’t quite get over it, although I was trying — but we were making progress. “How are things out here?”
“They’re fine.” My father wasn’t an idiot. He recognized we rarely stopped by for a genuine visit. We almost always had an agenda. Now that I think about it, that wasn’t very nice. We should probably stop by without an agenda once or twice. I would have to make a mental note of it, which technically turned the visit into something with an agenda, but I couldn’t think too long on that without making my head explode.
“How are things with you, Bay?” Dad’s gaze was pointed.
“They’re fine, too. It’s been fairly quiet at the inn. Clove and Thistle got drunk and stayed there last night, but I was a good girl and didn’t over imbibe.”
Thistle scorched me with a hateful look. “Don’t even start.”
Dad chuckled. He was used to our antics. “We’re between tours. I don’t see any problem with having a drink or two ... or ten ... as long as you’re not driving. How are things at the guesthouse? Are you and Landon settling in together relatively well?”
Landon was another sore spot with my father. When he left Hemlock Cove, I was a child. He saw me sporadically through the years after that, but never for more than a day or two in a row. When he returned full time, I was an adult with a boyfriend. He couldn’t quite seem to wrap his head around it, especially because Landon refused to hold back when he felt my father was out of line.
“Things are good in the guesthouse.” I refused to lie. “It’s an adjustment, but it’s not really the adjustment I thought it would be. Landon was practically living there on weekends anyway. He had to go back to Traverse City three nights a week, but he worked hard to cut that to two nights. Otherwise, he was with me whenever he could arrange it. It’s really not that different.”
“I understand that, but you had Thistle and Clove there, too,” Dad pointed out. “Six people living together — which is how it must have felt when everyone had overnight guests — is much different than two people living together.”
He wasn’t wrong. “It’s honestly been fine. Nice even. Knowing Landon doesn’t have to pack up on Monday mornings is a relief. He still has work, of course, but that’s his home now. It makes everyone more relaxed.”
“I’m glad.” Dad looked as if he meant it. “So ... why are you guys out here in the middle of the day?”
His tone caused me to balk. “Maybe we just wanted to see you guys. Have you ever considered that?”
“No.” Dad shook his head, firm. “You just told me that Clove and Thistle are both hungover, which means driving out here wasn’t something they’d planned to do. That means you’re out here for a reason. We only have one group of guests, and I happen to know that Teddy messaged Thistle about those guests earlier today. I can put two and two together.”
Crud on a cracker. I hate getting pegged by my father ... especially when I’m guilty. “Oh, well ... .”
“We want to talk to the alien dudes,” Thistle admitted, ignoring the glare I lobbed in her direction. “There’s something weird going on at the crash site and there’s an out-of-town FBI agent in charge of everything, and he’s already threatened us with jail time. We don’t know where else to look.”
“Okay, but just for the record, you don’t actually think there are aliens running around, do you?” Dad looked legitimately worried.
“Of course not,” I scoffed.
“Good.”
“Aliens are third on our list.”
“And if they are aliens, we’ve narrowed them to the ones from Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” Clove offered helpfully. “Mrs. Little was out there the first day and she’s acting weird. It’s either aliens or she’s messing with Aunt Tillie. We’re fifty-fifty on it right now.”
Dad’s mouth dropped open. “You cannot be serious.”
“Why not?” I challenged. “I think it’s a drone. I think it was some experimental thing that the public isn’t supposed to know about and that’s why they’re being so secretive.”
“Sounds logical,” Dad noted. “Maybe they had some sort of proprietary technology on there that they don’t want anyone to stumble across.”
“That’s possible,” I agreed. “It also could be aliens.” I surprised myself with the admission. Sure, I initially said it because I knew it would throw my father for a loop. I wasn’t above messing with him. The sad truth was, though, that I wasn’t as reticent to the possibility as I should’ve been. I thought Clove was an idiot for buying into Aunt Tillie’s hype, but it turned out I wasn’t ready to completely turn my back on the idea.
“You guys are messing with me, right?” Dad looked legitimately worried. “There’s no way you believe it’s aliens. This is simply one of those bits you do when you’re looking for attention.”
Thistle drew her eyebrows together. “We don’t do bits.”
“Sure you do. What do you think all that ‘you’re dead to me’ and ‘I’m going to make you eat dirt’ stuff is?”
“Um ... that’s the way we roll.”
“They’re bits,” Dad challenged. “You guys don’t really mean them. They’re simply part of the Winchester charm.”
“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but we mean the dirt thing,” I argued. “I’ve shoved dirt in Thistle’s mouth at least five times.”
“When you were kids.”
“No, about a year and a half ago I shoved snow in her mouth. It was dirty snow, so that counts.”
“I remember that.” Thistle’s expression turned dark. “I haven’t paid you back for that yet. Thanks for reminding me.”
“No problem.”
Dad shook his head. “See, I think this is part of the act, too. There’s no sense in arguing about it. You won’t admit what you’re doing.”
“Probably not,” I agreed, leaning against the counter. “With that in mind, I know you asked what we’re doing here. I was kind of hoping we could all have lunch together.”
“You guys, me, Teddy and Warren?”
“And whatever guests you have handy on the premises.” I was trying to be nonchalant, but I didn’t think I had the talent to carry it off.
“That’s what I figured,” Dad said dryly, shaking his head. “We’re having French Dip sandwiches and fries. How does that sound?”
“Like the best hangover food ever.” Thistle brightened considerably. “Did I mention how glad I am that we decided to come and visit you guys out of the blue with no ulterior motives?”
Dad merely shook his head as he regarded her. “This is getting easier for everyone, isn’t it? At least you guys are comfortable lying to us without feeling guilty. That’s progress.”
I bobbed my head. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Alien Inspiration
There was a time I thou
ght your mother was pregnant with an alien, Thistle. It turns out that pain in the ass she had was simply prophetic. You’re not half-alien. You’re all jerk.
Aunt Tillie tells Thistle how it is
Eleven
One witch saw it coming.
We chatted with our fathers for an hour, but my eyes were constantly on the stairs. Most of the conversation revolved around mundane issues like Thistle’s naked statue, which made her father uncomfortable. Clove talked about how she was gearing up to work on the gardens at the Dandridge, the lighthouse she lived in with Sam. I refrained from bringing up aliens again, even though they were obviously the elephant in the room.
“Don’t worry, Bay,” Dad said finally as he topped off my iced tea. “I know they’re coming down for lunch. They told us that yesterday. They’re going out after that.”
I adopted an air of innocence. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Uh-huh.” Dad wasn’t convinced. “What were you thinking about?”
“How nice it is to spend time with you.”
“You’re a rotten liar.”
“That’s not true. Aunt Tillie conducted classes on lying when we were teenagers. I was her star pupil.”
Thistle cleared her throat. “I was her star pupil.”
“You’re both crackheads,” Clove corrected. “I was her star pupil.”
“Just what every father wants to hear,” Warren drawled. Clove’s father was used to being manipulated, but even he looked unhappy with the conversation. “Tell us about this new FBI agent. What’s his deal?”
“He’s a douche,” I answered automatically.
“Tell us how you really feel,” Dad said, smirking.
“That is how I really feel.”
“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because Landon dislikes him?”
Close Encounters of the Witchy Kind (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book 6) Page 10
